


Come Away With Me

by flowerfan



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Episode: S07e06 Sunrise Bébé, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Post-Canon, SC Season 7 Challenge, Sight-seeing, Tacos and margaritas and mole oh my, Travel, brief angst, future!fic, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28484916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: There’s a beauty to David that’s hard to define in words.  Patrick prefers to tell him with long, slow kisses and the kind of gentle, drawn-out love-making that gets David to drop his defenses.  He had sort of hoped that this weekend would lend itself to a night like that, alone in a fancy hotel in the L.A. he had imagined.  It’s a lot less likely to happen in their subpar Airbnb.David and Patrick take a trip to L.A. for the Sunrise Bay premiere.  It isn’t exactly what Patrick expected.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 40
Kudos: 160
Collections: Schitt's Creek Season 7





	Come Away With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSeason7](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSeason7) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> 7x06 - Sunrise Bébé
> 
> David and Patrick venture to LA to attend a premiere party for Sunrise Bay. Lovely trips to the beach? Patrick in high fashion? David shopping for said high fashion clothes for Patrick? Do Patrick and Keith Urban have a nice chat while David is carrying on with Nicole?
> 
> ******  
> This doesn't follow the prompt exactly, but I hope it comes close enough. It does include the premiere, sight-seeing, and longing after high fashion...

Patrick is at the grocery store when he gets a text from David. _Come home immediately._

Familiar with his husband’s penchant for drama, Patrick doesn’t even blink. _Did you misplace the remote?_

_Ha ha, very funny. Come home. Need to measure you._

That’s a new one, Patrick thinks, and does _not_ let his mind go there while standing in the frozen food aisle. _Why?_

_We’re going to the Sunrise Bay premiere. And unless you want to wear your wedding suit, we have to move fast._

Turns out, there’s no time for custom fittings. Moira neglected to tell David exactly when the premiere was in her first set of emails, but when Patrick gets home from the store twenty minutes later David turns to him and divulges this critical piece of information with a despairing groan. “Our flight leaves at 10:32 tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” David hisses. “My mother thought it would be a good idea to inform me of this just now – by email – which is titled, and I kid you not, ‘peregrination itinerary.’”

“Must we peregrinate tomorrow, though? What about the store?”

“That’s what I said!” David waves his hands in agitation. “She said I shouldn’t mind closing it for a few days, that she couldn’t believe I would consider missing her special day.”

“She said that?”

“She used longer words. And then she put my dad on the phone…”

“Pulling out the big guns, huh.”

“Yeah.” David plops down on their bed, avoiding the piles of sweaters and jeans he has apparently been evaluating for the trip. “What are we going to do?”

Patrick sits down next to him, sliding a carefully folded garment that seems to be more rips than jeans out of the way. He smiles at his husband and gives his arm an encouraging squeeze. “Sounds like you’re getting on a plane tomorrow. You can drop me at work on the way to the airport.”

David frowns at him. “What are you talking about? You’re coming too.”

“David, someone has to watch the store. I don’t mind-”

“Oh no, no no no. You knew what you were doing when you married this,” David waves his hand at himself and the bed full of clothes. “I cannot handle this by myself. If I have to go, you have to go. Stevie can watch the store, she’s in town this week. I am not going to L.A. alone.”

Patrick ducks his head, stifling a grin. As impractical as it is, he’s thrilled that David wants him along. And besides, he’s never been to a television show premiere before.

*****  
By the time they board the plane the next morning, Patrick is beginning to wish he had insisted on staying home. The flight was delayed for three hours for reasons unknown (David was convinced it was because the plane was broken, and Patrick didn’t say it out loud, but it was a perfectly clear day so what the hell else could be the reason), and by the time they walk down the jetway, neither of them is in a very good mood.

David announces loudly as they walk past the first class seats that he is never going to forgive his mother for sending them coach tickets, earning them both dirty looks from the flight attendants. When they find their row towards the back of the plane David takes the window seat, leaving Patrick to sit in the middle. Until just a few minutes before take-off the aisle seat is empty, and Patrick has hopes that it will remain that way and he can switch into it. Of course this doesn’t happen – a huge man that looks like he could be a linebacker claims it, and Patrick sighs.

“At least it’s not someone with a crying baby,” David whispers slightly too loudly into Patrick’s ear. Second later, the baby in the seat in front of Patrick starts to wail.

Things improve somewhat after the plane takes off. David pulls a number of amusing items out of his leather carry-on bag, starting with citrusy sanitizer wipes which he rubs over their tray tables. He lifts up the arm rest between their seats and spreads a soft cashmere blanket over them both, then offers Patrick his choice of noise cancelling headphones, eye masks, soothing lozenges, and bottles of water.

Patrick looks over the items, taking a swig of water and then snuggling into David’s side. “When did you gather up all this stuff?” he asks quietly as David arranges the elastic straps of an eye mask carefully over his hair.

“It was all in my go bag,” David says, pulling the blanket higher up over them and tilting his head to rest it on Patrick’s.

“You have a go bag?” 

“Mmmhmm. Ever since we got kicked out of our house. Alexis and I both have them, although I think hers is mostly full of makeup.”

“I’m guessing you have a range of skin care products in yours as well.”

“You would be right,” David says. 

Patrick doesn’t really sleep much, but it’s kind of nice, cuddling with David while the noise of the engines whir around them. There’s nothing to do and no one making demands on them. It’s just a few hours out of time, thousands of feet up in the air, with the person he likes most in the entire world. David doesn’t so much as look at his phone until the flight’s almost over, apparently also enjoying the reprieve from their ordinary busy schedules.

When they land, David leads them through the chaos to the baggage claim. Even though they are only staying for a few days, they checked a bag – David had entirely vetoed trying to transport their formal wear any other way. So they wait and wait at the luggage carousel, and finally fall into an Uber for the ride to their Airbnb.

For all Patrick has heard about L.A., he doesn’t get much of a feel for it as they drive from the airport to West Hollywood. He’s looking forward to doing a little bit of sightseeing, but it’s apparently not going to happen yet.

The building their driver brings them to looks nice enough, with some charming detailing on a wrought iron gate that swings open to give them access to the entrance. They trundle up the stairs and pause at the second floor apartment, David scowling at his phone while he finds the code to unlock the door.

The living room is sparsely furnished with a blue futon couch, a few chairs, a coffee table, and one brightly colored poster on the wall. Down a narrow hallway is a kitchen, bathroom, a tiny bedroom, and another tiny bedroom. 

“Do you think the weed smell is meant to cover up the musty smell, or is that just a delightful coincidence?” David asks, his nose wrinkling. 

Patrick pokes around in the kitchen and idly turns on the faucet, noticing that the water coming out of it runs brown for a few seconds before clearing up. Thankfully the refrigerator is empty and clean, as are the cabinets. He goes back out to the living room. 

“No rotting food, at least. Tell me again why we aren’t staying in a hotel?”

David is sitting on the edge of the futon, typing furiously into his phone. “Blame Alexis.”

“Is it actually her fault?” Sometimes it’s worth checking, when it comes to the two of them.

David sighs. “Sort of. She actually had a different place reserved for us, but they had a gas leak? So this is the one they offered her instead on short notice. As far as why we aren’t at a hotel, no clue.” He looks up at Patrick imploringly. “Tell me at least the shower is decent?”

“I haven’t looked yet. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Just then Patrick’s stomach growls audibly, and he is reminded of how long it’s been since they grabbed a healthy breakfast of donuts and terrible lattes at the airport. 

David is smirking as he stands up and pushes Patrick towards the door with a hand on his lower back. “Come on, let’s get out of this place and find something to eat.”

There are a million fancier places to dine in L.A., David explains over the best tacos Patrick has ever tasted, but none with better food than Guisados. Tacos are apparently a thing in L.A., which Patrick supposes makes a certain amount of sense. “And any other introduction to L.A. tacos would be incorrect,” David proclaims.

They each order three, and then three more, small combinations of delicious tastes cradled in soft round tortillas. David makes Patrick try a bite of each of them – pork with green serrano chiles, flank steak with peppers, bacon and beans, shrimp with bell peppers and chipotle. When Patrick declares that his favorite is the mole poblano, a chicken taco with sauce made from chiles, chocolate, and spices, David grabs his phone and pokes around, then leans back with a triumphant smile. “Tomorrow I’m taking you to the best mole restaurant in the country.” 

“Aren’t we sightseeing with Alexis tomorrow?”

“She got us that awful Airbnb. She can take us out to lunch.”

They walk for a while after dinner. It’s nice to stretch his legs, strolling in the cool spring night with David’s arm around his shoulders. Patrick still has that slightly dizzy feeling he always gets after a day of traveling to a strange place, when he can’t quite figure out which way is which. He’s glad to be guided along by David, who seems entirely at home here.

Patrick knows West Hollywood’s reputation, but while they pass places that seem like they could be gay bars, there are also the same things you’d find on any city block – gas stations and convenience stores, t-shirt shops and restaurants, and even a Target. It’s comforting, somehow, that L.A. isn’t entirely made up of tourist attractions and celebrity sightings.

At one point Patrick pauses to look in the window of a music store with several colorful guitars on display. David leans up against him, surprisingly pliant for all the stress they’ve been under today. “Want to run away to California and join a band?” David asks, walking his fingers up Patrick’s arm.

“No thanks,” Patrick says, grinning as he kisses David’s cheek. “My fans back at home would miss me.”

“Indeed they would.”

They’re exhausted by the time they climb into bed. It’s only ten, but that’s one a.m. at home, and they were up before dawn.

“If I wasn’t so tired there is no way I would agree to sleep in this bed,” David grouches. 

Patrick has to agree. He’s tried to look on the bright side, but the bed is barely a double, the blankets are scratchy, and the whole place smells vaguely like a damp towel that has been sitting in the corner of a closet for far too long. After tossing and turning for a few minutes David gets out of bed and returns with his carry-on, replacing the scratchy blanket with the cashmere one he brought on the plane.

David digs his face into Patrick’s neck. “I know this isn’t exactly what we expected, but thank you for coming with me.”

Patrick imagines David alone in this uncomfortable bed, listening to the music from the neighboring apartment that seems like it’s only three feet from their window, anxiously trying to fall asleep. “I’m glad I’m here,” he says simply.

The next morning Alexis arrives bright and early with a bag of croissants and a tray of coffee (and tea for Patrick). She takes one look at the apartment, wrinkles her nose just like David did, and immediately starts typing away on her phone.

“I’m getting you a new place,” she says. “This is a disgrace.”

“Don’t bother, Alexis.”

Alexis looks up at David, disbelieving. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

David shrugs. “We only have one day to show Patrick the city. I don’t want to waste it dragging our luggage around.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t come crying to me if you get lice.”

“Hey, cut it out,” Patrick intervenes, not interested in going there again. “The place is clean, even if it smells funky. And there are no lice,” he says pointedly to David, who is looking a little queasy.

Their first stop is the Griffith Observatory, high on a hillside overlooking the city. It’s got a prime view of the famous Hollywood sign. “I didn’t realize the sign started off as an ad for real estate,” Patrick says, reading its history on his phone as they watch Alexis make faces for her selfies. 

“Don’t give Ray any ideas,” David says. “One laughable Schitt’s Creek sign is bad enough.”

Alexis trots over to them and peers around at the view. “David, can you see our old house from here?”

David snorts at her. “No, and you’re looking in the wrong direction.” He glances around and then waves his hand. “I think it was that way.”

“Wait, you guys used to live here?”

David and Alexis swivel their heads towards him, their occasional family resemblance showing in their identical “duh” expressions. 

“Well, yeah,” says Alexis. “Sometimes.”

“Mom was filming Sunrise Bay the whole time we were growing up,” David explains.

“But wasn’t the headquarters of Rose Video in New York?”

Alexis shrugs. “That’s what the private jet was for.” She boops Patrick’s nose. “You’re so sweet.”

“I feel like I should have known this,” Patrick mutters.

David bumps up against him from behind and tucks his head over his shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. Alexis and I once had one of those maps where you put a little pin every place you’ve been. We ran out of space, at least in the good spots. It’s hard to keep track.”

“Yeah, but you _lived_ here.” 

“And I only have one day to show you around. So come on, where to next?”

They drive back into the city and try to park near the Chinese Theater to see the Walk of Fame. It’s not far from their Airbnb, and Patrick wonders why they didn’t go there first. It might have been a little less crowded. As it stands, there are swarms of tourists, some taking pictures with Elmo and others walking with their heads down, pointing at various celebrity stars in the concrete.

Alexis is pursing her lips as she drives, Patrick next to her so he can see. David leans forward between them. “Do you want to get out and look around, or…”

“We don’t have to stop,” Patrick says, and Alexis lets out a breath.

“Thank god.”

David insists that they drive through downtown L.A., and Patrick tries to admire the architecture or even figure out where they are, but then David and Alexis are bickering over where to go next and how to get there, and before long they are driving up to a restaurant with a large mural facing the street.

Inside David saunters up to the desk to claim their reservation, his usual black and more black ensemble the only dark spot in the brightly colored interior. They are seated quickly at a table near a dance floor, and before they even open their menus a band comes on stage and starts to play lively music.

Alexis glances around and flops her hands at David. “I can’t believe you made us come here,” she sighs.

“Patrick likes mole,” David says. “And you really can’t get Oaxacan food at home.”

“Fair. But it reminds me of being hungover.”

“Why?” Patrick asks.

“David insists that their margaritas are the best hangover remedy,” Alexis says. 

“I never heard you complain.” David hums, looking around for a waiter. “And they do have excellent margaritas.”

They’re a little early for lunch but this apparently makes Alexis happy since the egg dishes are still available. She orders huevos rancheros and actually eats some of it, while David and Patrick order several entrees to share. Soon there is food covering every inch of their table, except for the spots they save for their drinks. After a round of margaritas they sample the more unusual tequila cocktails, David insisting they have to try the one called La Canada, a combination of tequila, pineapple, lime, and cucumber.

The restaurant has filled up with families and groups of people, some of whom are now gathering on the dance floor in response to the band leader’s entreaty. Patrick stands up, realizing as he does that he’s a little more tipsy than he anticipated, and holds out his hand to David. “Come dance with me.”

David looks bewildered, and Alexis cackles. “David. I bet no one you brought here before ever asked you to dance.”

David glares at her. “Eat glass, Alexis.” He gets up from the table and takes Patrick’s hand. “I hope you appreciate this,” David says, following Patrick out to the dance floor. “She’s right. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Patrick grins at David and pulls him close as they swing around to the music, hands together and having fun. He doesn’t even care that David’s been here before with other people, that apparently it’s his go-to morning after spot. It’s someplace special for David that he wanted to share with Patrick, and Patrick knows David is serious when he says he wouldn’t have gotten out of his seat and up on the dance floor for anyone else.

When they get back to the table Alexis has ordered them big glasses of water, and they drink them down followed by a few cups of coffee. David, of course, insists that they have dessert, and by the time they are ready to leave, the lunch rush has all but cleared out.

David goes over to the counter and chats with the proprietor for a few minutes, and when he comes back he’s all smiles. 

“What’s got into you?” Alexis asks as she and Patrick follow him out the door.

“Nothing. I just haven’t seen her in years.” David’s playing with his rings, pressing back on a smile.

“You told her you’re married, didn’t you?” Alexis asks.

David blushes and blinks up at the ceiling. “Yes. So what?”

Patrick grabs him around the waist and kisses his husband. He’s just too adorable sometimes. “I love you, David.”

“Mmm. Love you too. Now get in the car, we’ve got places to go.”

Again the drive seems to take forever. Their next destination is Beverly Hills. Alexis makes them park and walk down Rodeo Drive, and David moans and whines as they pass the high-end stores but don’t let themselves go inside. Alexis drags her feet in front of Prada, and Patrick laughs.

“Is this really fun for you guys?” They’re all employed now, and doing fine, but dropping hundreds of dollars on luxury items is still not really in their budget.

“Just one more minute,” Alexis says, pressing her face to the glass of the Louis Vuitton store. “See that precious little purse? With the gold flower? I used to have one just like that.”

“Come on, let’s go,” David says, tugging her away. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“No, you’re embarrassing _yourself,_ David,” Alexis retorts, pouting as they head back to the car.

They debate where to go next, Alexis wanting to head up into the hills and show Patrick their old neighborhood, while Patrick was hoping to see the beach (which they are not all that near, it turns out, especially given the traffic). But it’s getting late, and they need to get ready for the premiere, so Alexis drives them back across town and drops them at their Airbnb.

Patrick is taking his turn in the bathroom when he hears David yell, and he steps out into the hallway with a towel around his waist.

“What’s going on?”

David’s face is scrunched up in disgust. “Look at that.” He points.

Behind a door that Patrick assumed led to the back stairs is a small room, barely more than a closet, with a toilet and a tiny sink. “Okay… I guess that’s the second bathroom?”

“It doesn’t even have water in it, Patrick,” David says, opening the toilet lid with one finger. “Look.”

The toilet bowl is empty, with rust colored stains around the bottom. It clearly hasn’t been used in a long time.

Patrick steps back and looks at the door. “David?”

“Yes?”

“Was this door locked?” There’s a padlock hanging open from a latch.

“Not very well,” David says, giving a full body shiver. 

Patrick grins to himself. “Why on earth did you open it?”

David shrugs. “I was curious.” He turns to walk away and Patrick stops him with a hand to his chest, giving his bow tie a tweak. He loves seeing David all dressed up. Honestly he loves David no matter what he’s wearing, but seeing him in his wedding suit is kind of doing things to him. He particularly likes David’s bare knees, which might be weird, if he worried about that kind of thing anymore.

“You look good,” he says, letting his voice go low. David tilts his head up in response, like he always does when he gets a compliment, as if he’s not sure where to look.

“You’ve seen this outfit before,” David says, deflecting. Patrick has. When they made their vows to each other. It’s a sight he’s not likely to forget.

“And again I say, you look good.”

David meets his eyes and lets a little smile pull at his mouth. “So do you.”

Patrick laughs, grabbing the towel at his waist. “We don’t have time for any of that,” he teases.

“So why’d you get started?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you you look good unless I follow it up with sex?”

David leans in and kisses Patrick’s bare shoulder, then his neck. “It’s an idea. We could test it out.”

“Not today, unless you want to be late to your mom’s big day.”

“Ugh,” David says, stepping away from Patrick. “It’s déjà vu, getting cockblocked by my mom yet again.”

“You know when most people your age say that, they’re talking about something that happened ten or fifteen years ago.”

“As you well know, I am not most people.”

****  
The premiere itself doesn’t take all that long – it’s a daytime television show, not a feature length movie – and soon they are being shuffled out of the auditorium into a series of rooms for the after-party. There are Sunrise Bay themed decorations everywhere, apparently taken quite literally by the party planner, everything draped in red, orange, and yellow fabric with the occasional oasis of blue (“because that’s the ‘Bay,’” David whispers snidely in Patrick’s ear).

Patrick enjoys David’s commentary on the evening until David is whisked away by someone Patrick doesn’t recognize (and who is he kidding, these are soap opera actors and their fans, Patrick doesn’t recognize any of them) and he is left to wander around by himself. Apparently Nicole Kidman couldn’t make it, but that doesn’t seem to have dampened the other actors’ enthusiasm for having a good time.

Patrick doesn’t really mind watching from the sidelines for a while. This is clearly a world David is familiar with, clad in fashion and fame and people that know what David is talking about when he name drops his favorite place to shop in Milan or Paris. And while David still doesn’t exactly fit in, with his kilt and combat boots, he sticks out in a different way than back home. Like a particularly unusual flower in a festive garden, instead of a fish out of water.

Patrick shakes his head at himself. David would say he’s not being very creative with the flower reference, being a Rose and all. But there’s a beauty to David that’s hard to define in words. Patrick prefers to tell him with long, slow kisses and the kind of gentle, drawn-out love-making that gets David to drop his defenses. He had sort of hoped that this weekend would lend itself to a night like that, alone in a fancy hotel in the L.A. he had imagined. It’s a lot less likely to happen in their subpar Airbnb.

After a few minutes Johnny finds Patrick and attempts to engage him in conversation about the store, but soon enough Johnny is pulled away too. The Roses are well known in this crowd, which isn’t surprising given how long Moira has been a part of the Sunrise Bay cast. 

Patrick swipes another glass of champagne and sips it slowly. It’s not all that much better than what they get in Schitt’s Creek. Some of the passed hors d’oeuvres are, though. He puts a few that seem to be goat cheese stuffed dates on a plate and goes to find David. 

After circling the room (and finishing the stuffed dates) with no sign of David, Patrick checks out the lobby. It’s been hung with gauzy tangerine colored drapes which form passageways through the open area. Many of them are printed with life-size images of the Sunrise Bay actors, giving the impression as Patrick weaves his way through that he is surrounded by swaying orange ghosts.

He catches a glimpse through the curtains of two men on the far side of the room. He’s pretty sure one of them is David.

As he gets closer, he hears their conversation, and he freezes.

“Davey, you don’t have to pretend with me. I _know_ you. And last I heard, you were pretty desperate for money. I’ll make it worth your while. Surely doing it for cash isn’t any harder than doing it for free?”

“I’m not interested, I told you.”

“You’re a little heavier now, but I think you’ll still photograph well with enough booze in you to get that stick out of your ass. We can do it tomorrow, I’ll send someone to pick you up, get you in the mood.” 

The man speaking to David is leaning in, crowding David against the wall, one hand pressing down on David’s shoulder. “Don’t be like this, Davey, it doesn’t suit you. It never used to be this much trouble to get you to show some skin.”

Patrick feels ill and pushes forward, tangled in the curtains for a long moment until he’s finally through. David’s eyes shoot up to him, dark and tinged with apprehension.

“Who the fuck are you?” the other man says, angry at being interrupted. He’s big, taller than David and broader in the shoulders, with an ugly sneer on his face. Patrick had thought at first it might be Sebastien, but it’s clearly not.

“I’m his husband,” Patrick responds through clenched teeth. He glances at David, who now that the man’s attention is off of him has curled into himself, hands clenched against his chest. “Come on, David.” 

Patrick is shaking as he gets an arm around David’s waist and tugs him away. He wishes David would say something. He doesn’t want to tell David what to do, to stomp on his autonomy like a caveman, but David seems so shaken and Patrick won’t let him listen to that thug for a second more.

David pulls away from him when they get into the hallway and dashes around the corner. Patrick follows and sees him head into the men’s room. Inside, there’s a stall door swinging shut.

“David?” Patrick says, finally finding his voice. 

“Go away.”

“I’m not going to do that.” He moves up against the door. “I’m right here.”

David is breathing heavily, and Patrick wonders if he’s having a panic attack. “David, can I come in?”

“Text Alexis.”

“What?”

“Text Alexis, or – security. He’s not supposed to be here.”

“David, who was that guy?”

David doesn’t answer, but his breathing starts to hitch, raspy and labored. Patrick pushes against the stall door. It’s not locked, but it bumps against David as it opens. Patrick slides inside. There’s barely enough space but he wiggles in and then, finally, he’s got his hands on David’s shoulders.

David turns and wraps himself around Patrick. He presses his face into his neck, wheezing and shaking.

“It’s okay, David. You’re okay. Breathe, baby. You’re okay.”

After a few long breaths David pulls back, not meeting Patrick’s eyes, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He’s trembling as he sends a text. Patrick stays pressed up against him, chest to David’s back, arms around his waist.

“That was Martin Crag,” David says finally. “The sleaze Sebastien sold the photos to, the ones he took of me without my permission. We used to have a restraining order against him. It probably expired.”

Patrick has heard only a passing reference to this, Sebastien’s penchant for profiting off of people’s vulnerabilities.

“David, was he trying to force you to…?” Patrick’s not even sure how to finish the sentence.

David shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Patrick. I was never _forced_ into anything. I partied and got high and let people do whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter, I didn’t care. Why should Crag think I’m any different now?”

David’s voice is tight and it makes Patrick ache inside. He puts a hand on David’s face and kisses him, just a gentle touch to his lips. “I think you did care,” Patrick says, cradling David’s head against his own. “You did care, and you do, and that’s why it hurts.”

“God, fuck, it really does.” They stay there for another long minute, pressed together in the small bathroom stall, David taking deep breaths and holding on tight to Patrick. But soon someone else comes in to use the toilet, and David straightens up. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

David insists on waiting until the room is empty again before emerging from the stall. He splashes water on his face and grimaces as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. Patrick messages Alexis, who has been blowing up their phones since David sent the first text, and they meet her outside. She’s got a worried look on her face and her car keys in her hand.

“Mom’s going to be pissed that we’re leaving,” David says, and Patrick can tell he’s aiming for casual. “They haven’t even shown the retrospective yet.” Moira was particularly excited about the montage that apparently is going to feature some of her most popular dramatic moments.

“I told her I had wicked cramps and you guys were taking me home,” Alexis says. She wraps an arm through David’s and tugs him close. “She’ll get over it.”

This time Patrick slides into the back seat with David, putting his arm over his shoulders and pulling him in close. Alexis doesn’t say a word.

When they get to her apartment, Alexis tells them they can have the car, saying she’ll come over to get it in the morning. She hugs David and they banter back and forth for a minute about whether David still remembers how to get around L.A., and then it’s just the two of them again.

It becomes clear to Patrick within a few minutes that they aren’t going to the Airbnb. But David seems relaxed, tapping his fingers along to the radio as he drives, and so Patrick doesn’t ask questions. After a little while he puts his hand on David’s thigh, and David glances at him, smiling softly.

“I’m okay,” he says, as if he can sense the question Patrick is dying to ask him. “I really am.”

Patrick tilts his head, and David sighs.

“I mean, it wasn’t fun. But I’m fine.” David gives Patrick a pressed lip smile, then turns his attention back to the road.

Patrick trusts David on this. It wouldn’t be right not to. Patrick nods and settles in, giving David’s leg a squeeze. It’s a nice night for a drive, and he doesn’t want to let what happened earlier ruin the rest of their evening. If David can shrug it off, he will too.

When the lights of the iconic ferris wheel come into view, Patrick can’t help but let out a little whoop. He had told David ages ago that if he ever visited L.A. he wanted to see Santa Monica. David, apparently, remembered.

They park and head towards the pier, music getting louder as they get closer. But David surprises Patrick by taking his hand and pulling him down concrete steps to the beach instead of continuing across to the amusement park.

David keeps a hold of Patrick’s hand and they walk together in the dark, the quiet sound of the waves against the shore a backdrop to the rhythm of their footsteps. There aren’t many other people on the beach. It feels like it’s just the two of them, and the ocean stretching away into the night.

David stops and fidgets, clenching his hands together.

“What is it?” Patrick asks.

“We should go in.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure the water is really cold.”

David rolls his eyes. “Just our toes.”

Patrick considers the logistical difficulties of this. “You’d have to take off your boots.”

“I’m aware.”

“But you won’t sit down in the sand.”

“Obviously.”

“Come here.” Patrick holds out his hands, and David leans on his shoulders while he pulls off David’s boots and his socks. David does the same for Patrick.

The sand is chilly on his feet, and he wiggles his toes as David leans down and expertly rolls up the cuffs of Patrick’s suit pants.

“They’re going to get wet,” Patrick says, raising an eyebrow at David.

“You are not taking your pants off,” David says.

“Incorrect?”

“Incorrect.”

“Fine,” Patrick says, setting his shoes and socks down next to David’s, high enough up the shore that the waves won’t reach them. “You’re not risking anything, you’re wearing a skirt.”

They approach the edge of the water. The waves aren’t rough, just a gentle flow up and down the beach. Patrick takes David’s hand and they wade in up to their ankles. 

“What’s out there?” Patrick asks, and David looks at him quizzically. “Across the ocean.”

“Japan, I think.”

Patrick thinks about it, all the distance between them and the people thousands of miles away from them. He thinks about all the water between them, filled with fish and dolphins and sharks and who knows what else. “This is the first time I’ve touched the ocean.”

David twists towards him, bouncing a little. “I know. Your mom told me you’d never been.”

“She did?”

“Yup.” David swings their hands in between them. “So, how does it feel?”

Patrick looks out at the moonlight shining silver on the water, and his husband, standing strong by his side. Even with what David’s been though in the past few days - last minute travel, less than stellar accommodations, and a return to a town with some painful memories, he still found a way to make Patrick’s wish come true. “Good,” he says. “Really, really good.”

David hums happily, and Patrick leans into his side.

“Do you miss it? Living here?” His question doesn’t even sum it all up – does David miss the beautiful people, the jet-setters, parties and playthings on both coasts to keep him entertained?

But David just looks at him fondly and moves closer, taking Patrick’s face in his hands. “Not even for a minute.” David kisses him until he’s breathless, then loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and rests their foreheads together.

“Thanks for inviting me along,” Patrick says. “It’s been quite the trip.”

“To be fair, I never said I wanted to visit to L.A.”

Patrick remembers David’s reaction to his mother’s summons, just a few days ago. He really hadn’t wanted to come.

“Well, then I’m extra glad I came.”

David tilts his head back and squints his eyes closed, and Patrick rubs his nose against David’s cheek. “It’s okay,” Patrick says. “We make a good team. That’s kind of the point.”

David presses his lips together and shakes his head. “I don’t usually like teams. But I like ours.”

“That’s good, then,” Patrick says, capturing David’s mouth in a kiss. “Because I do, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the organizers of this challenge for putting it all together, this was a lot of fun to participate in.
> 
> The lyrics from Norah Jones’ lovely _Come Away With Me_ gave me a bunch of different ideas for titles, but in the end I just went with the title of the song. 
> 
> Please let me know if you liked the story - among other things, I'm curious to know if it matches your impression (from experience, or not) of L.A.? I've been to the places mentioned here (including the Oaxacan restauratant, Guelaguetza, which is fabulous) so hopefully I've done them justice.


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